


Eulogy

by PrinceDarcy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hannibal gets it, Het, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Post-Finale, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDarcy/pseuds/PrinceDarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal was in the passenger seat for the drive back this time, expression inscrutable as ever as his eyes seemed to fixate on something far beyond the pouring rain pattering against the windows of the car. The sudden downpour had left them both soaked, even in the reasonably short walk from the hospital entrance to where Alana had parked. The rainwater dripping from his hair took the blankness of his expression and turned it into an almost theatrical representation of a downcast man – and Alana knew she must have looked much the same.</p><p>Alana takes comfort in a friend after visiting Will at the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eulogy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing smut, so be gentle with me.

It always felt something like leaving a funeral when Alana drove home from her visits with Will at the hospital; the sense of closure that it was over, finally over, balancing so precariously with the same inescapable loss that that closure brought. Every time she visited, it was as if she was burying him again. Burying Abigail Hobbs again.

Hannibal was in the passenger seat for the drive back this time, expression inscrutable as ever as his eyes seemed to fixate on something far beyond the pouring rain pattering against the windows of the car. The sudden downpour had left them both soaked, even in the reasonably short walk from the hospital entrance to where Alana had parked. The rainwater dripping from his hair took the blankness of his expression and turned it into an almost theatrical representation of a downcast man – and Alana knew she must have looked much the same.

She could read Will Graham’s obituary in the raindrops on the windows.

Alana invited herself inside when they reached Hannibal’s house, and he gave no objection, easily slipping her wet coat off her shoulders and hanging it alongside his. The warmth of home made it all the more obvious how drenched the rain had left her, her dress damp as it clung to her even with her coat having been a buffer between her and the elements. She couldn’t even curse herself for _forgetting_ an umbrella; the sun had been shining when they’d walked through the door of the hospital. She’d had no idea she’d need one.

At least she could take some amusement in Hannibal being in exactly the same condition, though as he unbuttoned and shrugged off his jacket and vest she could see that the extra layers had done wonders for keeping his shirt considerably less wet beneath them.

He slowly undid his tie, draping it over his arm with his other garments as Alana stepped out of her shoes, wet nylons leaving damp footprints on the floor where she then stood.

“You shouldn’t stay in your wet clothes.” Hannibal said, removing his own shoes and leaning down to put them neatly in their place against the wall. “I can hang them to dry with mine, if that would be alright.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to spend a few hours in one of your bathrobes.” There had been a time when Hannibal had been her first port of call whenever she was in any way stranded – bad weather, broken down car, a bit too drunk after a night out to get herself home – and it was in no way unfamiliar. She still had his phone number on speed dial.

He laughed, warm as the air from the heater. “And you wonder why those PhD candidates thought we were having an affair.”

Alana couldn’t stop herself from smiling, just slightly, but the expression fell from her face like just another drop of water from the tips of hair as she followed him in and upstairs, their footsteps gentle through familiar halls. He had no hesitation in leading her to the bathroom off his bedroom, pausing to retrieve a few wire hangers and one of the aforementioned bathrobes.

She began unzipping her dress  before he was even done hanging up own wet clothes over the top of the shower. A certain lack of prudishness came with knowing someone for as long as she’d known Hannibal Lecter, an inability to feel self-conscious.

He politely kept his eyes averted nonetheless, only turning to look at her when it was to hand her the plush bathrobe before ducking out of the bathroom, quietly shutting the door.

Alana laid the robe over the edge of the tub, slipping off her dress and stepping out of the pool of fabric it left at her feet. The nylons were peeled off next, and she hung the two garments from their hangers next to Hannibal’s jacket and vest.

It took a moment of deliberation before she reached behind her back, unclipping her bra and tugging the straps off her shoulders, laying it over the edge of the tub before hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her panties, sliding them off and giving them the same treatment. Swaddling herself in a bathrobe tailored for a well-built man a full twelve inches taller than her provided all the modesty she could ever need, and she wasn’t going to sit around in damp underwear for Hannibal’s sake.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed when she stepped out of the bathroom, two glasses of beer in his hands.

“I thought you might appreciate a drink.” Hannibal said as Alana sat by his side, taking one of the glasses with a fond nod. She always needed a drink after a visit to that hospital, whether it was Hannibal’s home-brewed beer or a bottle or two of what she happened to have at home. All the more when she’d been soaked to the skin not too long ago. The thick fabric of the robe warmed her from the outside; nothing like a good glass of beer to warm her from the inside.

A few more glasses and maybe her eyes wouldn’t burn at the thought of Will alone, despondent in his cell, his hand pressed to the glass as if he could have touched her through it if she’d just gotten close enough.

But Alana had the feeling Hannibal wasn’t going to offer up too much more than the one.

“Why do I keep going to see him?” She asked after a few more sips of the beer, eyes set straight ahead. She wasn’t expecting an answer; in that moment it barely even registered that Hannibal was there, not six inches away from her.

“Why do you?” And yet he parroted her, voice low, quiet. As if he didn’t want to be overheard. Alana laughed a humorless laugh, taking another long sip of her beer. Drinking with Hannibal always left her wondering why she ever let herself drink anything else – this tasted warm, a little nutty, a smooth sweetness leaving her mouth tingling. Store brand just never compared.

“I don’t know, Hannibal, I don’t –” Her words trailed off into nothing, no answers presenting themselves where she groped for them. There was no logical reason to why she kept opening the wound that was Will Graham and yet… “He’s alone, Hannibal, I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“I know.” Hannibal murmured, brushing still-damp hair off her face, the low tone of his voice now conveying an entirely different message than before. There was incredible understanding in the way those two little words passed his lips, even as he cleared his mouth of them with another mouthful of beer.

“Even with all the evidence, I can’t believe he would – someone has to be on his side, I can’t just let this happen to him.” There were tears in her eyes, despite every effort she was constantly making these days to be strong. She didn’t flinch when Hannibal wiped those tears away with steady fingers, his touch hot on her cheeks. “I feel like I betrayed him, Hannibal, _god_.”

“I know, Alana – _I know_.” He repeated, setting his glass so gently on the floor by the bed, cupping her face in his hands. Alana’s eyes danced over his features, trying to read him, but his eyes had been an enigma to her from the moment she’d first met him and now was no different. All she had was that profound understanding in his voice and his hands on her cheeks, the distance between them seeming to shrink by the moment.

“How does it make you feel? Seeing him?” She whispered, the tears wiped away quickly replaced with fresh ones despite herself. She followed his lead with the glass, reaching back to set it on the nightstand, and Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath as he opened them again.

“Wounded.” He replied, and then he kissed her like she’d only ever imagined he’d kiss a woman, lips moving against hers like he wanted this more than he’d wanted anything in his life. It took no coaxing for Alana to open her mouth and let Hannibal in, the same sweet taste on his tongue as was filling her glass when he pressed it against hers. She grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer towards her and savoring that taste on her tongue. His hands drifted, moving from where he had cupped her face,  gently brushing over her neck and prompting her to shiver, just slightly, before he began to push back the robe she was wrapped in.

“Hannibal,” Alana breathed, inhaling sharply when they broke apart for air, his hands steady in a way only a former surgeon’s could be over the edges of the robe. There was questioning in her eyes, uncertainty. Words, _‘should we do this?’_ , unspoken.

“Alana,” He murmured back, his breath hot on her face as he pushed the robe back further, off her shoulders. “it’s alright. It’s alright.”

That was answer enough, and Alana kissed him again, slower, gentler, tugging her arms out of the bathrobe’s sleeves as Hannibal trailed a hand down her chest, cupping her breast with calloused fingers. She whimpered against his mouth as he squeezed gently, other hand at work unknotting the belt of her robe. He seemed overdressed in comparison then, and she reached out to unbutton his shirt – leveling out the playing field. She only got about half way before he was cradling her head, gently pushing her back against the bed.

The robe fell discarded to the floor as Hannibal slowly coaxed Alana towards the center of  the bed, kneeling above her, gaze trailing over her now bare form with marked appreciation in his eyes. He still cradled her head with one arm, her long black hair spread out over the pillow underneath. He stooped down to start leaving kisses in places more creative than her lips, his mouth leaving warm patches on her neck and collar bone. His free hand traced circles over the inside of one of her thighs, so close to where he had her desperately wanting him to touch her – but apparently that wasn’t his plan yet.

Alana could hear her heart beating in her chest now, could feel it to the tips of her toes. Her hands were shaking as she hastily unfastened the rest of the buttons on Hannibal’s shirt, but she didn’t care if he stopped to take it off now.

He move downwards, trailing kisses between her breasts and over her stomach, and she arched her back into it, knotting her fingers in his hair to both give herself a point of leverage and a means of pushing his head down further. Hannibal gave a low hum of contentment against her skin.

“ _Patience_ , Alana.” He raised his head for just a moment to murmur the words, the tone of his voice and the heat of his breath on her bare flesh seeming to send a pleasant wave of vibrations through her. But she was beginning to get a little tire of patience, no matter how smoothly he demanded it.

“It’s rude to keep a woman waiting, Hannibal.” Alana replied breathlessly, tugging at his hair, and she could feel his breath hitch with a silent chuckle. It got her what she wanted, however, because in a moment he was up on his hands and knees again, coaxing her legs apart. She didn’t need any coaxing to open her legs to him, and her eagerness was rewarded with fingers finally, _finally_ brushing over her entrance, the sensation of his rough fingers on sensitive flesh prompting her to gasp.

Hannibal smirked at the sound, leaning down for another passion-filled kiss, slowly pushing two fingers inside her. It came easily – she was wet already, had been for a while. He moved his thumb in steady circles over her clit as he curled his fingers, searching for the right spot, and once he found it, it wasn’t long before the stimulation both internal and external had Alana squirming and curling her toes, exhaling his name with every other breath.

Hannibal broke away from her mouth, instead deciding to give a new location a try, and caught her earlobe between his teeth, sucking and nibbling at it as he thrust his fingers in and out of her, keeping up the rough motions of his thumb over her clit all the while. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her whole body seemed to start tingling, muscles clenching as she moaned her way through her orgasm, and Hannibal withdrew his fingers.

He looked her dead in the eyes as he licked his fingers clean, face serene as it was when he took his first sip of an exquisite glass of wine, and Alana lay pliant against the bed sheets, panting for breath. Her hands dropped to her sides as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, but her chance to catch her breath wasn’t long before Hannibal grasped her by the hips, lifting her pelvis up and setting his mouth to work where his hand had just been.

She gasped out an “oh, _fuck_ ”, clutching the soft sheets beneath her and hooking a leg over his shoulder. Her un-ladylike language didn’t seem to bother Hannibal as much as it usually might, if how eagerly he worked his tongue against her clit was any indication. Alana bit her lip, watching him through barely-open eyes as he seemed to savor her, lapping up every drop as he pushed his tongue inside. She bucked her hips against his mouth, moaning softly and raising a hand to gently knead her own breast as he kept up his ministrations, licking and sucking like he’d never tasted anything better.

His teeth grazed over her clit and the unexpected little surge of pleasure from that was all it took before Alana came again, writhing and tossing her head back against the pillow, practically screaming his name. Hannibal didn’t stop right away once she had reached her climax, closing his eyes and tasting her just a bit longer before he pulled back, letting her lay flat again and leaning down to kiss her once more, the taste of her mingling with his saliva.

Neither said a word as the kiss ended, and Alana reached for his the waistband of his pants, slowly undoing the button with shaky hands. She could see he was hard, and after he’d been such a gentleman about getting her off first – well, she didn’t want him doing _all_ the work.

“Sit up.” She said as she undid his pants, palming him through the fabric as she did it. Hannibal raised an eyebrow, but obliged, sitting back. Alana pulled herself upright and shifted so she was straddling him, one arm around his neck as she pressed her other hand against his erection. He bit his lip, breath hitching, and just that little reaction got her smiling. Always the professional, he was. It would be exciting to see him come undone.

She kissed him again as she pushed his trousers and underwear halfway down his thighs, brushing her fingers over the head of his cock. He inhaled sharply, biting her lip lightly as she did it.

“You’re on birth control.” Hannibal said softly as she pulled back from the kiss. It was a statement, not a question, but Alana didn’t care to ask how exactly he knew that – probably by smell, knowing him – and gave a nod instead. He nodded back, and that was the green light for her to shift, slowly lowering herself to take him inside her. He hissed through his teeth, grabbing her hips to help guide the tempo as she began to move, wrapping her other arm tightly around his neck as well to brace herself.

He was restrained in his reactions at first, doing little more than gasping, but as she picked up the pace his mask slowly started to crack.

“Alana, _Alana_ –” Hannibal breathed, moving to grab her by the waist instead of the hips, nails digging into her just enough to sting, but not enough to hurt or even feel unpleasant. He was trembling, bucking his hips in time to her movements, and Alana just couldn’t help but be pleased that she was doing this to him. “ _Prašome nesibaigia_.”

“What was that?” She asked, pausing her moving, as breathless as he was, and Hannibal pushed her down on his cock, putting his lips close to her ear.

“ _Don’t stop._ ”

Alana grinned, letting her eyes slip shut as she rode him, feeling him moving beneath her as his exclamations grew more frequent. Barely did a word pass his lips in English; she could make out a lot of French, mostly “ _mon dieu_ ”, and a bit of that third language. She’d heard it before, when he’d slipped like this after having a few drinks, and realized it must have been his native tongue.

Alana could feel him tense up when he reached his peak, leaning in to kiss him one more time as his grip on her tightened. He moaned every bit as desperately as she had, rocking against her as he came inside her, his nails digging in enough that she knew she’d have marks on her back where his hands had been.

She slid off him and they laid back on the bed side by side, Alana’s head on Hannibal’s chest. He combed through her hair with his fingers, taking slow breaths in time to hers. She could hear his heart beating, wondered if she was in time with that too.

And then she remembered why she had been here on the first place.

“Hannibal,” Alana began, voice little above a whisper. Hannibal looked down at her. “that was incredible, really, but… we can’t just have an affair.”

“I know.” He said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. Alana swallowed.

“It’s not you, it’s –”

“It’s Will. I know, Alana. I understand.” And she let him put his arms around her and hold her to him, rolled his words over in her mind again and again as she lay there in Hannibal’s arms. He understood her – and she could understand him in that, too.

He didn’t want to bury Will Graham yet, either.


End file.
